I Know You
by Fancy Pants Penguin Jiao-Jie
Summary: This is a dress rehearsal for a real fic about Ozai's life and even though I've already started up with the actual story, I still like this one so I kept it up to see what everyone thinks about these characters and this setting. n.n


**A/N:** Hello! This little OneShot is kinda of like a dress rehearsal. I wrote it to try out the characters, the setting, and the feeling before I probably maybe crank out an outline for a real live story!

So! I'd really like to know what everyone thinks. That includes even if you think it sucks. In case you're one of those people who usually reads but can't think of anything to say, here are some examples of what I'd like, feel free to expand upon these at your leisure:  
"YO. I'd read a real story along the lines of this OneShot!"  
"YO. You suck at writing Ozai, don't do a whole story about him! Kthnx!"  
"YO. I heart you Jiao-Jie!"

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**I Know You  
**败  
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He tried again, pushing his chi out of his heart and down his arms, using every emotion he could find to fuel his fire. He breathed in as he drew back, his gold eyes narrowed in determination. With a step forward, he thrust his palms out, creating a small burst of fire; that wasn't nearly good enough and the young man felt the rage build up in his chest. Why couldn't he get this? Iroh had just weeks after he started lessons.

"I thought that one was a lot better," Ursa said from her place on the stairs of the palace's training ground, her book was open but lay forgotten on her lap. Her voice was kind rather than condescending as his teacher's usually was, but regardless, something clicked in the back of Ozai's head.

He whipped around to face her. "You don't know anything about fire bending, so just be quiet and let me practice," he snapped, frustration bubbling up through his mind.

Ursa only raised her eyebrow. "Maybe you should try focusing that anger into bending instead of yelling," she suggested, a small smile working at the corner of her mouth as she turned back to her book.

The fire in Ozai's chest dampened somewhat; one thing the prince would always be thankful for with Ursa, was that instead of cowering or groveling when he got angry, and instead of yelling back, it just seemed to bounce off, leaving her completely un-phased. Somehow, when she ignored his outbursts that made them disappear faster than any amount of arguing would.

Now, Ursa leaned her chin on her palm, flipping through the pages of her book so quickly Ozai knew she couldn't really be reading. She pushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder, letting it pool around the elbow that she leant on; it was only when she was alone with Ozai that she would let him take it out of the traditional bun to hang free. Now, he could clearly remember how soft it was when he ran his fingers through and he could almost smell the clean flowery scent that clung to the silky strands.

Suddenly, he wasn't angry. Instead, his heart sunk thinking about fire bending lessons tomorrow. He was already behind the other students in the class, and his father was becoming more disappointed with every passing day. A prince couldn't be seen to be weaker than the other kids, and he knew that if he couldn't improve soon that he would be taken out of classes altogether so as not to embarrass the royal family.

He picked up a cloth from where he had dropped it, used it to wipe the sweat off his brow, frowning, and then let himself fall onto the steps beside Ursa. She didn't look up from her mindless page flipping and he got the feeling she was ignoring him on purpose, so he sighed heavily.

The young woman's clear, somewhat mischievous, gold eyes looked up to meet his. "Oh, hello," she said, pretending to look surprised, "Have you finished your fire bending practice? I hope so because I don't know anything about it and I won't be any help to you." Her voice was flippant but there was a large smile blooming on her full lips. "In fact," she continued, "I think I should probably just be quiet and let you do it yourself." With a wave of her hand, as though to dismiss the subject, she turned back to her book, but the prince's hand shot up to hold her chin, turning her head and stealing a quick kiss. That was as close as the Ozai would ever come to apologizing for anything he did, but it worked, as Ursa finally laughed, giving up on her act. He gave a half smile before falling backwards to lie on the stairs, covering his face with the cloth.

"Oh come on. You know it just takes work," she said, her voice kind again.

"I know," he said, sitting back up with a frown. "I'm not sure how much harder I could work though."

"You also know that isn't true," Ursa told him, closing her book and setting it aside.

"How do you mean?"

"I know you; if you really want something you won't stop until you get it," she smiled, and Ozai recalled asking servant after servant after nobleman if they knew the identity of the girl he'd seen at the palace on that first day Ursa's father brought her to court with him. "If you can't do it, you're just not trying hard enough," she continued. In an instant, the happy memory slipped away to be replaced by hurt. That particular emotion never lasted for more than a fraction of a second in the heart of the young man and it was almost instantly decayed into anger by his pride.

"_I'm not trying hard enough_?" he snapped standing up and glaring down at the girl, but of course, it seemed to have no effect on Ursa, whose caring expression didn't change in the least. "I'm out here working for hours every day so I can try to live up to the example set by my perfect, wonderful brother, while you don't do anything but read or make jokes. Nothing I ever do helps and neither do you. I'm still the joke of my class and my father is about to pull me out so I can stop embarrassing him."

Ursa's eyes widened in shock and she frowned but not because of the insults; she had learned within only a few months of knowing the prince that that was his way of transferring his anger at himself over to someone else, "Did he really say that?"

"YES. He did. If I don't 'start acting like a prince and stop bringing shame to our family name,'" he mocked Azulon's powerful, intimidating voice, "Then I just won't learn fire bending. Then what would I be? Instead of the worst student in the class I'd be the only Fire Nation prince who never mastered bending." Once he finished, the torches lining the walls of the courtyard were blazing with his anger and Ozai was breathing hard. He could already imagine himself locked out of his father's war meetings, the character for 'FAILURE' branded on his head, while the always perfect and loved by all Iroh sat at Azulon's right hand, the picture of the perfect prince.

The vision dissipated when Ursa placed a cool hand on his forearm, pulling him gently back into a seated position. "That won't happen," she said in a soft, comforting voice. "What I meant was that I know you, and I know that you can do it if you want it enough. Did you see the torches when you were yelling? You just have to learn to control that." Ozai blinked, realizing that she was right, but refusing to acknowledge it; that was alright, because by Ursa's smile he figured she could already see from his silence that she'd won. Instead he sighed again, looking at his hands.

"So, Prince Ozai of the Fire Nation, get back up there and finish your set while I don't help and just sit here reading my book or making jokes," she smiled again and motioned to the training square with a nod of her head. Despite himself, the prince chuckled, and the young woman leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Go on!" Ozai stood, shaking his head.

"If you know what's best for you, you won't boss me around anymore," he said, playfully tossing the cloth at her.

Ursa giggled and batted it out of the way. "You're not even gonna bow?" she asked, mock offended. "I should have you arrested for your disrespect, young man!" Ozai's lip twitched into a smile but he just stepped into his stance, pretending to ignore her. "GUARDS!" shouted the laughing young noble woman.

Then, the sliding paper door to the palace opened to reveal an older servant that Ozai recognized as one of his brother's attendants and his smile slipped off instantly at the thought of Iroh. "My lord," he said, inclining his head towards Ozai, "Ma'am?" the servant asked Ursa, glancing between the prince and his girlfriend.

"Uhm, it was nothing," she said; the proper young, quiet noble girl persona was back, and she was blushing as she looked down and pretended to be engrossed in her book.

"Go back inside," Ozai ordered, and with a bow the man slid the door closed.

Almost instantly, Ursa burst into giggles and the young man stepped back into his stance. "Just be quiet and read your book," the prince commanded, smiling.

"Yes, my liege," the girl said with an exaggerated flourish and bow, looking down at her book but watching the prince out of the corner of her eye.

He executed a sweeping kick, and the smile from earlier was completely gone. At the mere thought of his brother, all of the anger, frustration, and determination were back.

Ozai would not be a failure.


End file.
